


You've Been a Bad Girl

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Humor, Cleon, Detective Noir, F/F, F/M, Gumshoe, Mr. X - Freeform, Multi, Shameless Smut, horror meets humor and adds angst and fear, humor is key here, humphrey bogart - Freeform, smutty smut smut, some suggestion of rape (nasty ass Brian Irons), threeway drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2019-11-22 01:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: The worst gumshoe in town. The best chic in the biz. The brother in the hands of the monster. And a dapper man in a hat that just won't take no for an answer. This is Raccoon City - under the black and white cover of a really bad noir filter.





	1. Chapter 1

**You've Been a Bad Girl**

* * *

**A short story**

**Starring:**

**Leon S. Kennedy**

**Claire Redfield**

**Ada Wong**

**With frequent (annoying) appearances by:**

**Mr. X**

**Artwork by Frank3nstein**

* * *

**Part One:**

**"Is that a tommy gun in your pocket...or are you just happy to see me?"**

* * *

**Raccoon City**

* * *

He was the worst private investigator in Raccoon City. Without a doubt, the cases he inherited were so hopeless that Sherlock Holmes would have probably passed them to the Mystery Machine Gang and given up long ago. But there was one thing you could say about Leon S. Kennedy, P.I. - he never gave up.

The current case he was on was hopeless - a series of kidnappings with no suspects and nothing but rubble. Someone was busting down walls, taking victims, and walking away without a single witness. He kept hearing DMX in his head singing  _X Gon' Give it to Ya_. He couldn't find a shred of evidence to lead him toward any one person. His only clue was a half torn diary that had survived the recent rain storm to tell him that the victim had been writing madly in it when she'd been taken.

_Dear Diary -_

_HERE HE COMES! I can hear him stomping through the flowers outside the living room window! I can't believe he's found me! What can I do? Who can I call? He stalks me everywhere I go. I lost him at the mall, I swear, but he's found me again. HE'S RELENTLESS!_

_I don't know what to call him so I'll just refer to him here as Mr. X. And I think I can see his hat from my window!_

_God help me! I can hear the pounding on the wall in the dining room! Why doesn't he just use the door!? What will I do when he finds me? I think it has something to do with Um-_

The diary cut off abruptly and Leon sighed, tapping his pen on his desk blotter. Matilda, his Browning Hi-Power, was tucked happily under his arm against the crisp white shirt he wore. The rickety door across from his sad scarred desk showed the logo of his one man show - Gator Investigations (sporting the delightful image of an alligator wearing a vest - a pun in a logo, perhaps his greatest achievement to date) shared the glass on the door with his tag phrase: I'll Blow Your Mind With How Hard I Solve Your Case.

He was practically a genius, or so he'd been told all his life. And yet he was the  _worst_ private eye in the business. He was a running joke. He was known for being a crack shot (he had his William Tell moment when he blasted the ball cap off the Mayor's head on the range one day after a dare), a fuck up (he'd gotten drunk at the policeman's ball last year and given a speech about how small his dick was when it was cold outside), and a horrible driver (he'd wrecked two squad cars, a motorcycle, a plane, and a golf cart...the golf cart was the only time he was drunk - hand to god).

However, he was a great success with the ladies. He was always painting the town red with them. (That was his story anyway and he was sticking to it. Even though his last soppy secretary Hunnigan had quit when he'd propositioned her after a case. And the only person who even responded to his horrible flirting was the Mayor's daughter Ashley...who was so obsessed with him she was constantly sending him Snapchats, hiring him for ridiculous cases that an idiot could solve, and had recently sent him a copy of an ultrasound she'd had done at her last check up to detemine she was indeed "fertile" and "ready to populate the world with his beautiful babies when he was ready to put in some overtime")

He took a swallow of the expensive scotch on his desk and hissed at the sting. He was determined to prove himself. He was going to find the mysterious Mr. X and bring him down.

He was going to be the best in this business.

There was a smooth knock at the door. He rose, shifting around the desk, and opened the creaky wood to find a familiar face waiting on the other side. It was Claire Redfield from Made in Heaven investigations. Everyone knew her. She and her brother had the market on all the high profile clients.

Chris Redfield was known, in their business, as a punch in the face for the bad guys. If he was after you, you were as fucked as a boulder in a volcano - one way or another, he was going to blast you off the face of the earth. He absolutely did not stop until you were dead.

His sister was known around town as "I got this" because she didn't know any other way but over confidence. She took on cases that would make most people throw in the towel. She took on opponents three times her size in terms of money and power - and she never flinched. She was the rocket launcher up the ass to Chris Redfield's punch in the face.

They were an unstoppable force.

They also made it pretty clear they thought Leon was a bumbling butthole on the ass of society.

So he was not at all charmed to find her awaiting his response as he opened his door.

Without preamble, he drawled, "I think you're lost, Redfield. This office is for degenerates and rejects."

Claire shook her head. The little tie she wore, the little hat, the snug pants - they all made him very aware that he'd once asked her out at the RPD and she'd shot him down in front of the entire station. But apparently his dick didn't care about the rejection. His dick? It liked her hips in those pants. He was betting she had a little pierced belly button under that white shirt she was wearing too.

She seemed the type. Something with a little barbell and in pi-

"Mr. Kennedy? Did you hear me?"

Nope.

He hadn't.

Not a word.

He lifted his gaze to her face. "What? I spaced out."

Claire pursed her lips, praying for patience. "Chris is missing. He's been missing for eight days. I have torn this city apart trying to find him. I need help."

Leon felt his brows shoot up into his hair line. The slick back style complimented a nice face, Claire thought objectively, over an adorable little cleft chin. What did they call that? Butt chin? It worked. It was a cute a face. She was, however, less than impressed with how true it seemed to be that the prettier they were, the dumber they were.

Leon Kennedy wasn't known for his great fetes of intellect. He was clumsy. He spouted cheesy one liners that made people wince. (He'd once been over heard shouting down a maniacal cult leader in a shoot out. The man had bellowed, "Enough of this! I'm sending my right hand to dispose of you!" And Kennedy had retorted, "Your right hand comes off!?" It remained the WINCE heard round Raccoon City.) And he, unsuccessfully, flirted with anything in a skirt.

However...when he solved something, he did it...beautifully. The flashes of real intellect and deductive reasoning reminded her that someone had said once upon a time, he'd been a fast track candidate for government intelligence training. It was unclear what had stopped him from leaving the police force and joining the CIA, but the best she could find out? He just quit the force, after one day on the job, and started his own private investigation business.

No one, anywhere, would tell her why.

She was hoping he might, someday, if she could just get him to work with her here.

And so Leon queried, "What do you think I can do here, Redfield? You have all the contacts. You have all the ins and outs. I'm just a...what was it? Monkey Masquerading as a Man?"

Claire winced, "...I might have said that."

"No wait. It was a Model in a Bad Spy Movie."

She pursed her lips. "I might have said that too."

"Or my personal favorite...a Mediocre Cop Pretending to be Max Payne."

"Why do you keep saying it like it's bad movie titles?"

Leon gave her a droll look. "Shop it somewhere else, Redfield. I have paying clients waiting for me."

She slapped her hand on the door and gave him a long look when he started to close it on her. "Come on, Kennedy. We both know no one is beating down your door here. We both know I wouldn't be here unless I was desperate. I'm desperate here. I need your help.."

He gave her a long suffering look. "For what?!"

"Because you have the other half of this." She held out the wet diary toward him. He lifted his brows again, surprised and Claire nodded.

"Exactly. Whoever took those missing people? They took my brother too. Help me find him."

Leon tilted his head at her. "Give me one good reason why."

Claire cleared her throat. She shifted where she stood. "I need to get in to see Ada Wong."

Ada Wong. She was the social butterfly of Raccoon City. You didn't so much as fart in this city without her knowing about it. She had her finger in every pie there was.

She also, notoriously, hated Claire Redfield.

Weirdly enough, she seemed to adore playing games with Leon. She was often known to drop hints, leave clues, and lure him places to help him solve his cases. He had yet to figure out the why, exactly, but he didn't care. So long as she kept helping.

Leon licked his teeth. "...really?"

"I'm sorry. But she knows something. We both know that. She won't talk to me."

He gave her such a cold look that Claire cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I am. I'm begging here. Please. Don't punish my brother because I'm a bitch."

It was true. Redfield was mostly easy going. He and Leon got along just fine -save for the friendly rivalry that might exist between any two people sharing careers and chromosomes.

Redfield was kinda like Batman to Raccoon City. Leaving him in the hands of the enemy was a bad idea. It was, actually, in their best interest to work together here.

He gave her a long sigh. "...fine. I'll get in touch with Ada. I'll help you. But you have to beg pretty."

Claire gave him narrow eyes. "How? On my knees?"

"...sorry. I lost my train of thought picturing that." He grinned.

Claire tried, she did, to stop the snort of laughter. "...you wish, Kennedy. You WISH."

"I do. I really, really do. But how about a hand job instead?"

He was disgusting. He really was. Why in the hell did she find his utter, complete, total lack of decorum refreshing? He was as charming as a fart in a swimming pool. He had no manners. He was a lecherous pervert. He was leering at her in a way that should have offended her...but somehow she wanted to laugh.

Because he was also harmless.

Leon felt his lips twitch. She rolled her eyes. He cleared his throat and chuckled. And she finally added, "...perv."

He winked at her. "Fine. Payment is hourly."

"...wait...what?"

"I charge by the hour, kid. You didn't think this was a free public service did you? It's a job, Claire. You? You're my client."

She tapped her booted foot, irritated, but unable to see a way around it. She, the best private eye in the city, was just about to hire the worst to help her. It was...ridiculous.

It was the plot of a bad story.

It was the only thing she could do.

She had to find Chris. She had to.

She sighed, hating the stupid gator on his door, but desperate. And so she said, "...fine. You're on duty, Kennedy. So put the booze away and get to work."

He opened the door and let her pass through into his office. "Story of my life."

Claire caught sight of the pile of papers on his desk. She'd assumed he'd been in here fucking off or sleeping or acting like an idiot...but he'd been working. Hard by the looks of things. He was really trying to put together the mess they were in.

She tilted her head, watching him move around his desk. "I usually ask for a retainer up front before I get to work."

"Oh yeah? How much?"

"Fifteen hundred."

Claire whistled, shaking her head, "Steep. Especially for a guy with a track record of losing more than he wins."

He shrugged, flipping the diary over the desk toward her. "Maybe so. But I earn it, I promise you."

"Alright." Claire shifted around the desk toward him. The moonlight hit his gun in its holster and turned the profile of his face silver. A good face, she thought again, handsome.

And she liked the effort she saw scattered in his office. He might be a shitty P.I. but he was just unlucky. Because his office looked like a man who never gave up.

"You take a check?"

He shifted folders, looking for what he had on the recent kidnapping to show her, "Nope. I take sexual favors though. In case you're interested."

Yep. Perv.

Claire shrugged a shoulder, "Deal."

"Wha-"

She grabbed his tie and turned him toward her. It was a good kiss. It was under her hat and in the spill of moonlight. He didn't stop her. He didn't do anything but turned his face toward her.

He let her do all the work - which she really, really liked.

Their mouths popped as she leaned back.

"Retainer paid, Kennedy. Show me what you got."

He blinked, twice, and laughed. "Jesus. I'll wave the fee if you keep going."

And Claire laughed too, shaking her head, "Focus on the mission here, hot stuff. And let's find these people."

"Deal." He paused, considered, and added, "I like your ass in those pants."

Claire slapped his in return and moved around his desk to pick among his papers. "Noted. Help me find Chris, I might just let you see it out of the pants."

Holy hell she talked like a man.

He was kinda smitten with her.

Smitten?

That was a girl word.

However, the boner in his pants was clearly NOT female.

Amused, Leon slid the few photos on his desk to her. "These were in my mail slot a few days ago when the Birkin girl went missing."

It was a small girl, blonde, and her parents - also blonde. They were smiling and arm in arm. There was another photo of a man, her father clearly, and a blonde man in sunglasses laughing. On the back of the photo, someone had written - in red ink- _find him. Look under the umbrella._

Claire glanced up at Leon with her brows furrowed, "Who is he?"

"I don't know. But I figure I can start with Ada."

She nodded, considering him. "I'll ask around the RPD too and see where that gets us."

"Good deal." He watched her move toward the door, "Redfield?"

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"...I like your brother. He's a good guy. I won't let him down."

Claire felt her mouth turn up in a smile. "I know you won't. You might be a perv. You might trade sex for services...but you're known for being loyal. Maybe by the time this is over, you end up liking me too."

Leon laughed, shaking his head, "Could be, kid. Keep kissing me and I think we'll get there sooner than later."

Claire winked, heading toward the door. "Call me when you set the meeting with Wong."

She paused at the door and cocked her head, looking at the picture hanging - forlornly and sagging badly to one side. It was a blonde little boy and a cow. The boy was hugging the cow and laughing.

Curious, she asked, "Who is this?"

And Leon, without missing a beat, replied, "I don't know. Some kid. I thought it was a whimsical picture. Figured it would put my clients at ease."

The little boy hugging the cow had an adorable little cleft in his chin. What did they call that?

A butt chin.

Claire felt her mouth purse into a smile. There were sides to the pervert with that cute face and the big heart that she had to yet to discover. She realized she just might enjoy working with him after all.

"Ah. A little weird to hug a cow huh?"

And he returned, "Maybe she amooosed him."

Claire glanced over her shoulder. He wasn't even looking at her. He, literally, didn't seem to even realize how badly he'd just punned. She couldn't even wince, she was just too entertained by him.

"What do you call a cow whose been knighted?"

Leon shrugged, glancing at her and Claire quipped, "Sir Loin."

She closed the door as she left and Leon shook his head, chuckling, and picked up the diary she'd left behind. Apparently, the worst P.I. in the business was the only hope of saving a hero.

Honestly?

Chris Redfield was probably screwed.

Of course, if he played his cards right, he might be too.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

* * *

**You've Been a Bad Girl**

* * *

**A short story**

**Starring:**

**Leon S. Kennedy**

**Claire Redfield**

**Ada Wong**

**With frequent (annoying) appearances by:**

**Mr. X**

**and**

**Chris Redfield (FOR THE BLOODLINE)**

* * *

**Part Two:**

**"A femme fatale is quite a gal."**

* * *

**Raccoon City**

* * *

The Red Butterfly club had a two-drink minimum. A bouncer at the door named Two Fingers Tony, gave Leon a dirty look as they stood in the damp rain facing each other. A lonely rumble of thunder punctuated their stare down.

Somewhere, someone was piping some low humming jazz into the long night, laying a nice soundtrack for late-night rainy rundowns of rumors.

Leon rolled the matchstick in his mouth, his one concession to attempt to quit smoking, and gave the big man with seven fingers a long-suffering look, "Come on, dude, work with me here. Ada  _knows_ me...like..." Leon leaned in and bobbled his brows under his half-cocked hat, "...carnally...if you get my drift."

Two Fingers Tony gave him a return stare that was as dead in the eyes as a zombie might be...if Leon had ever really seen one of those. He hadn't, but Raccoon City sure felt like it could be a necropolis sometimes with how many zombies the use of smartphones had created. Seriously, it was like the walking dead around this place since the invention of the iPhone.

"Ms. Wong sees no one without an invitation."

Leon sighed and drawled, "I know that Tony, I do, but if you ask her - she's gonna want to see me."

Tony gave him a bored look. Leon sighed as the rain turned the air a little misty from cold and fog, "...please?"

Tony narrowed his eyes.

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Pretty please with two girls on top?"

From the window above him, a voice called, "...I think Tony's aware of that show nightly, Mr. Kennedy."

Ada.

"I bring gifts, Ms. Wong, tell your Cerberus to let me past your gates."

"Hmmm...come to play, do you?"

"...abso-fucking-lutely." His teeth flashed in a grin.

"Splendid."

Leon turned his gaze up through the crying sky to find her watching him the warm light of her office. Her dress offered a glimmer of sparkles and red, her gaze twinkled light the dress, and her crimson lips invited, "...come up, Mr. Kennedy. You have my permission."

Tony stepped to the side, just like that, and Leon passed beside the mountain of a man into the warmth of the club. The thump and bump of music, the curls of smoke from the booths, the girls on polls that danced and teased and cooed - it was the classiest fucking strip joint in three cities, no lie there. It was known, in the right circles, as a "Gentleman's Club", but it was also a front for mob activity when it suited, an intel drop point for PI's working with assets, and a good place to get a stiff drink after a long day.

Ada ran her girls and her business with a powerful hand. She protected at the same time she pimped, carefully selecting her dancers based on their skills and bonus qualities. Each dancer could double as an assassin or a spy when needs be. Ada secured most of her intel through the sex trade, offering men what they most wanted in exchange for what most aided her on her quest for power.

One wink and slung her long legs around the pole as Leon passed, showing ample cleavage and big lips around strong white teeth as she invited, "...wanna dance, handsome?"

He winked back tipped his hat at her, heading through the velvet curtain beside the bar toward the office. Security stopped him once more to clear him to see Ada in her inner sanctum.

When the door opened, the femme fatale in question was perched on the edge of her desk with a long cigarette in her grip and ebony hair carefully styled above thickly lined dark eyes. Her lips smiled in a feline way as she cooed, "Leon...long time, no see."

In his pinstripe suit, Ada mused, he was something to see anyway. He was useful for more than almost any man she'd ever known. He brought her quality intel, he kept his word on his exchange of information, and he was reliable about punctuality when she needed him. He was a valuable asset. She made sure he knew it by offering the one thing he couldn't ever seem to say no to.

With a smirk, he answered, "Ada...you've been playing hard to get."

"Hmm...all your life it seems. Want to catch me?"

His brow quirked. Ada laughed sweetly and gestured with her gloved hand, "Show me what you've brought."

The dress she wore reminded him of a flapper. It was fringed and clingy, offering enough cleavage to make his mouth water, and shimmery as she moved. He told her about the diary and Mr. X and the missing Redfield. She listened, curious, and showed the intelligence under the flirting that made him like her for more than her face.

When he finished talking, Ada curled around the desk and opened it. She rifled through and offered him a file that was inside. When he flicked from it to her face with his eager gaze, she told him, "...things are never what you think here, Leon. Look into the Chief of Police."

Brows arched, Leon quizzed, "Irons? Why?"

"...he has habits that are less than...legal."

With their gazes locked, Leon informed her, "You mean his habit for hunting exotic animals? He's not as good at hiding it as he thinks he is."

Ada tilted her mouth a little, "...animals aren't the only thing he's hunting, Leon. Look under the umbrella."

There was that phrase again. Annoyed with it, he demanded, "What does that mean, Ada? What umbrella? Is that a clever way of saying someone is covering for him?"

Ada shook her head. She jerked it toward the window. He listened and could hear Claire arguing with Tony down on the street. "Your sidekick knows more than she thinks she does. Be careful how much you trust her."

Leon arched his brows again, "Claire? She's harmless."

"...hmm...most men feel that way about a powerful woman...I've never met one that was right about it."

Leon scoffed, "What kinda power could she have? She's just a PI, like me, not a secret agent."

Ada gave him a pitying glance, "Don't get distracted by her pretty face, Leon, when you should be watching your back. She will betray you, when she gets what she wants, and leave you wishing you'd listened."

He gave Ada a narrow look, "We talking about her...or you?"

Amused, Ada's grin was bright and happy, "Both, I think. Both. But you expect me to betray you. Will you expect her to? That brother of hers is all that matters. He played with a man who couldn't be stopped with fists. Look into Irons, avoid getting too close to the girl Redfield, and make sure you remember who your enemies are."

Ada gestured with her head to dismiss him.

He sighed, scanning her face, and she added, "See you around, handsome."

Right.

He'd overstayed his welcome.

Leon met Claire on the street while she was trying to physically push aside Tony, taunting, "I know he's in there!"

Into the rain, Leon soothed, "Ease down, tough guy, I'm right here."

Claire gave him a dirty look as he joined her in a walk back toward J's Bar where they could sit and share the file. She had an umbrella over their heads as they walked, making him wonder if  _she_  was what was under it after all. Don't trust her, Ada said, the question was why?

What did Claire know that made her a risk?

As they stepped into the smokey bar, Claire asked, "What did that viper tell you?"

Women.

They were always snarky and snappy and snarling at each other. Was it simply a matter of one playing the other against him? Was he bound to be a bone between two rabid dogs? His mind went right for the threesome angle and made himself the middle man in a Claire and Ada sandwich.

He shook his head like a dog coming out of the water and returned, "She said to check into Irons. Apparently, our esteemed Chief of Police has more nefarious fun than just the occasional white tiger hunt."

Claire shuddered as they took a table and Leon opened the file between them, "He gives me the creeps. I'm pretty sure he's a date rapist. I bet he rufies girls and butt fucks them while they're unconscious."

Leon paused with the scotch in his glass halfway to his mouth. It was amusing to listen to Claire talk. She had a filthy mouth on such a feminine and sweet face. It was a nice contradiction.

He shrugged, "Not a fan of taking it up the butt?"

Claire snorted, "Not when someone drugged me first."

Brow lifted, he teased, "How about when they buy you dinner first."

She gave him a droll look, but her eyes twinkled, "Perv."

"...habit." He tapped a photo in the file and drew her attention, "Irons and this guy again."

Claire sighed, shaking her head, "...glasses. What does this fucking guy in the sunglasses have to do with everything?"

Leon shrugged and leaned back in his seat. The bar was quiet with the hum of muted conversation around them. The bartender was wiping the pristine wood while a television droned above it, showing the Raccoon City Tyrants losing yet another hockey game. The Tyrants were a disgrace anyway, he'd never seen a more inferior team.

Claire mused, quietly, "Maybe I should try to get in close to the Chief and see what he's up to."

Leon lifted his brows and Claire told him, "I know for a fact he likes me. He's never done anything but flirt, even more disgustingly than you do, so it should be easy to get him to meet me for a drink."

"...avoid leaving yours alone with him."

"Message received." She rose from the table, "I'll meet you back at your office later with what I can dig up."

Leon watched her angle toward the door. He tilted his head, observing that ass in those pants. Was she up to no good? Maybe she was in cahoots with Irons? He considered the idea that Claire was playing him and setting him up for the fall on something.

It was possible, hell, Ada might be as well.

The best thing he could do was keep his distance from them both while he tried to figure out what was hiding under that damn umbrella.

* * *

Somehow she'd ended up in a battle to maintain her virginity with Brian Irons. He frothed at the mouth like a dog with rabies. She hit him in the side with a vase and he punched her in the stomach. It sent her down on her face in his office.

It was her fault it turned violent. It really was. She'd been too nosy while she thought he'd been distracted outside the office. She edged into his private sanctum and discovered a room with taxidermy and death. It was a horrid place.

She was so busy staring in horror that she forgot to get back into his main office before he discovered her snooping.

As it was, he'd clucked his tongue and told her, "Well...I think we know how this story ends, Ms. Redfield. You've seen my secrets...I can't let you leave." She stared at him as he picked up a box and opened it to show a syringe. "...I was hoping we'd be friends...but I'll settle for adding you to my collection. I like to collect beautiful things...and I make them last forever."

Gross.

Claire didn't bother to wait. She turned on her heel and ran for it. He caught her ponytail and slung her into the wall. She came off fighting. She kicked him in the balls, spun an elbow into his face, and shoved his bulk into the door jamb. She was almost to the main door when he caught her again.

After a struggle, she found herself fighting to avoid his mouth as he tried to kiss her. She shouted, "Let go of me!"

Irons stuck the needle into her butt. She felt it go and shouted for help. He grinned, telling her, "Shhh...you'll be asleep soon. I promise to be gentle. I promise it won't hurt."

Claire started to slump against him from the tranquilizer. She panicked, jerking in his arms, and he soothed, "Go to sleep, pretty girl, you'll enjoy meeting Katherine...she's been so lonely."

His mouth shifted to press against hers as she felt the world float away and her eyes turn heavy-lidded. She tried once more, calling out, "...help!"

"Shh...no one is co-"

There was a thunk, a bump, a grunt and her hands were released as he fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Claire tumbled forward into the arms of the person behind where Irons had been standing.

Claire was shaking so badly that she could barely move until a warm coat was wrapped around her and a voice urged, "You're ok. You're ok. I got you. It's ok."

She did, dizzy with shock, and found Leon Kennedy tucking her arms into his duster and buttoning down her front. He soothed, softly, "Fuck, I'm sorry I was late. He went up those back stairs and locked the goddamn door. I had to scale the fence and come in through the roof."

Swaying where she sat with relief, Claire whispered, "You were watching us?"

He nodded, briskly rubbing her arms over the jacket, "I didn't like the idea of you meeting him alone...so I followed you. I'm fucking glad I did."

She was too. She really, really was. She warned him, "...I think he-where's Katherine?"

"...who?"

"I-I don't...I don't know...Leon?"

"...yeah?"

"He-" She swayed against him, "...that stupid shit drugged me. I'm gonna...I'm gonna pass out."

"I know...go ahead. I'll get you home."

She had no choice but to trust him as she slurred, "...look behind...the...tiger."

He picked her up as she went totally limp and carried her to the sofa by the wall. With Irons bound and contained, Leon moved into the hallway to do just that. He looked behind the bicolored eyed cat that blocked his way.

A house of horrors was waiting. Rare and exotic animals lined the walls, stuffed and staring. Illegal as they were beautiful, it showed why Irons was willing to kill Claire to keep the secret hidden. He was facing years of prison for killing some of the things that he'd turned into a parody of their life.

He was just digging through a stack of files near the blood flecked station where Irons clearly cleaned his kills when a sound had Leon pausing. A skittering sound in the ducts drew his eyes up. He narrow his gaze, searching to pin point the source of the noise.

It skittered away like a cockroach.

He tracked it, shifting around the small room. When it descended through the wall, he followed the noise to the Chief's bathroom and watched as a small foot poked out the vent above the sink. Brows arched, he waited until the whole body of a little girl came through before he intoned, "...what's up there Newt? The aliens?"

She squeaked and fell, he caught her in his arms and set her on the floor, and she shouted, "I HAVE MACE!"

He laughed and pinned her arms to the side to tell her, "...good to know. Now what the heck are you doing in the vents?"

The little girl, blonde and adorable, shrugged, "...peeping. What else?"

He tilted his head at her, "...clever thing. You hear things up there?"

She nodded, grinning, "My parents never pay attention to me. I spend most of my time peeping."

His mouth twitched, "Hmm...I'm Leon."

"...I know. I'm Sherry...I saw you...in the bathroom...with that girl that time."

He froze. His eyes widened. She was talking about the time he banged Alyssa Ashcroft in the women's restroom during the Policeman's ball. He'd pulled up her dress and turned her toward the sink to fill her out like an application.

Apparently, this little minx had seen the whole thing.

He mused, "...you're too young for that kind of thing. Your eyes will burn out of her your head."

She giggled and told him, "...she grunts like a pig, that one."

He couldn't help it, he laughed. He gestured with his head, "I need some help here. You wanna help me?"

She nodded. She considred him and replied, "I wanted to help the girl with the red hair, but I was afraid. She's...she's funny. She fights like a warrior princess. She talks to herself  _alot."_

He grinned. "She does, huh? Well help me find what I need here and we'll take her some place safe. Deal?"

"...deal."

Sherry moved over and pressed a book on the shelf. Leon, brows arched, watched the wall slide away. She hunkered down, looking terrified, and told him, "...I-don't go in there. I can't...it's...you need to see for yourself."

He pulled his weapon and went through the open wall.

And he was pretty sure he found Katherine.

The corpse was cold, the eyes fixed and locked on a spot on the wall. Her pretty white nightie was stained red with blood on her belly. It was lifted around her thighs in a way that told him he'd violated her before he'd killed her...or maybe after he had.

Disgusted, Leon turned his gaze to the wall of things beyond her. Filthy, horrible, disgusting things - breasts in jars, kidneys, a set of what was likely eyes or ovaries. Irons had a patchwork of human parts like a mad scientist lining the filthy walls behind him.

Leon shook his head. He stepped forward and the phone on the bloody stand beside the body of Katherine jingled. A machine whirred and a voice came out, "...Brian...it's best if you shut down the orphanage...I suspect that idiot Bertolucci is onto us. We won't forget your service, old friend."

The voice clicked off.

The orphanage?

What did that mean?

There was only one way to find that answer.

He picked up the open file on the table. Pictures and dates lined pages and pages of information. Irons was collecting data on his kills? It was more complicated than that. There were letters and notations about subjects.

A shiver went down his spine.

He was starting to think that the missing people weren't just missing...they were being made into monsters.

After he dropped off Claire and Sherry some place safe, he was going to go pay a visit to the proprietors of the Raccoon City Boys and Girls Sanctuary. He was betting there was nothing there he wanted to see, and plenty he needed to find. In the mean time, he stuffed Brian Irons in the cage he found behind the curtain where clearly the dirty police chief had kept his prey.

He pictured poor Katherine there and Claire and every other girl he'd likely held before he'd raped and murdered them.

He considered killing the fat pig on the spot, but he might need to grill him later for Intel, so instead, he stuffed a filthy sock in the mouth of the nasty bastard and left him bound in the corner with his pants around his ankles and his flaccid dick hanging in the wind. When the old bastard stirred, Leon informed him, "I took pictures of you like that, you fucking disgrace, and of this whole room. If you so much as make a peep, I'm gonna plastered these photos all over Raccoon City. I'll be back soon, and you're gonna start singing like a bad opera. You better tell me everything, or I'll use those tools on that wall over there to lop off that pathetic pecker of yours and shove it down your throat until you choke on it."

He slammed the door to the playroom and hit the button to send the wall closing.

He picked up Claire and jerked his head for Sherry to follow him.

He wasn't sure why, but knowing that Irons had not only been taking women, but peddling children made his blood run cold and his rage feel white hot at the same time.

It had been for the money before, but it was so much more than that now. Claire could keep the money, he was going to bring down this conspiracy for every single innocent life they'd destroyed. Raccoon City was about to find out just how much of a hero was hiding under the washed up shell of a failed P.I.

Leon Kennedy had just risen from the dead- and he was bringing hell with him.


End file.
